


or so i'm told

by beverytender



Category: Skins (UK)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-12
Updated: 2012-01-12
Packaged: 2017-10-29 10:21:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/318848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beverytender/pseuds/beverytender
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>2nd hurt/comfort fic. Series 6 AU, dealing mostly with Mini's supposed 'secret.' Adult material.</p>
            </blockquote>





	or so i'm told

Franky’s pretty sure she’s the only who notices Mini, coming out of one of the back rooms with some guy. He’s a lot (at least ten years) older then them, and something about him is vaguely familiar to her. There aren’t a lot of people walking around Bristol in suits like that, let alone hanging out in shitty pubs in suits like that. He really doesn’t seem like Mini’s type to Franky, but she shrugs it off, it’s not any of her business, and smiles at Mini when she rejoins the group, but just gets a sort of scattered look back. That’s what she remembers as the weirdest thing about it, later.

The same guy shows up pretty often, after that. Every friday night, no matter where they end up going, he’ll be there (waiting, Franky guesses) when they arrive, sitting in some back corner. There’s something obviously off about him, and Franky finds herself resisting the urge to glare at him every time the group is close enough. Mini seems a little more - off, as well, every week, and it gets consistently more difficult not to say something. Franky assumes the worst of Mini, at first, that she’s gotten involved with a married man or something similar, but the more she thinks about it, the more she thinks that’s something Mini wouldn’t do, not after last year.

Two months or so after Franky first notices this, Mini breezes into college looking quite pleased with herself and clutching a magazine she presents to the group. “Page 34,” she says, and sure enough, there’s Mini, looking up at them from the page. Franky congratulates her with the rest of the group, but it leaves a bad taste in her mouth. She doesn’t want to think about why. (It’s just - and she hates herself a bit for thinking this, it’s her own fucking fault if it’s true - there was something in the way that Mini used to look at her that she misses. And now Mini hardly looks at her at all.)

Mini re-emerges, one night, looking fairly sick to her stomach, and darts right outside. Franky (still pretty sure no one else has noticed, how the fuck they haven’t beats her) finally decides enough is enough and follows her out. She’s leaning against the wall, taking a drag off a cigarette, already looking more put together. Franky treads over slowly (this is familiar and so different), decides against beating around the bush, “What’s going on?”

Mini chuckles, just a touch like a warning, “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mini.”

She looks down at Franky, full ice queen, and raises an eyebrow, “Oh, are we confidantes again?” And promptly stubs out her smoke and waltzes back inside.

Franky heads home. Yeah, she deserved that, she knows, but it still stung.

~

The next morning, she wakes up determined. (and hungover.) That conversation may not have been the informational well she was hoping for, but it does confirm something’s not right. Maybe Franky can fix this whatever it is for Mini, and that’ll fix her and Mini. Even if it doesn’t.

So when plans are made on Friday, Franky arrives early. She sits at the bar and watches for a while. Fancy Suit orders one drink - a whiskey - and nurses it for an hour and pays with a credit card. It takes pretty much that entire hour for Franky to get his name from the bartender (she’ll never be good at that sort of thing) but she does, and she leaves before anyone else from the group even arrives, feeling both clever and nervous.

~

He’s not married. He works at the magazine (Franky double checks - yes, she bought a copy) Mini was in. What a coincidence, Franky thanks. According to google, most of the world thinks he’s gay. No one, save Franky, seems to think he’s a complete scumbag.

Question, what do you do when you find out that one of your friends (who’s pissed off at you) might be - what do you even call that? bribery?

~

Franky considers that question as she heads back out for the night, and comes up with not a single tactful way of handling it. She can’t tell him to go the fuck away, why would he listen to her? But going up to Mini and saying ‘I’m pretty sure you’re not sleeping with him because you want to’ doesn’t seem much better. She sits at the bar again, and drinks slowly, and doesn’t pay much attention to what’s going around her ‘til she sees them disappear and then him reappear, and then, unaware when she decided to do this, slides over her stool and goes in the door he came out. She braces herself against it, and goes tongue tied.

Mini, facing the other way, makes this brittle sort of laughing sound, and says, “Back already?”

Franky says, “Mini...” and stops. Struggles to find the next words. “Why are you doing this?” Just tell me, she thinks. Tell me and I can help. I don’t know how, but. Just tell me.

Mini clearly can’t read her mind. She shrugs, “Why do you fuck whoever you’re fucking now?”

Franky blinks, alright, fair enough, she’s done some really fucked up things this year, but, “I’m not fucking anyone now.”

“Right,” Mini snorts.

“I’m not. And that doesn’t have anything to do with this. Are you sleeping with him just to get put in that stupid magazine?” Wrong words. Wrong, wrong words.

Mini’s eyes flash, and she starts to forward as if to leave, reaching for the door knob, but Franky’s still - thankfully - standing against the door, and she’s certainly not moving now. “You could have that anyways, you know. I know you could. You’re the more gorgeous person I’ve ever seen.”

Mini still just glares, so Franky sighs, nods, and moves out of the way so she can leave. Next minute, though, Mini’s got her hands in Franky’s hair, and she’s forcing her head back against the wall, and kissing her so roughly, biting at her bottom lip and drawing blood. It takes her ten minutes after that to have her hand down Franky’s pants and, oh, it hurts, but so excellently, and Franky’s not really sure when she became exactly this level of masochistic, but here she is, being fucked by her best friend who hates her and who just fucked someone else in this same room for career improvement, and it’s excellent and absolutely horrible. Mini’s gone before Franky’s even opened her eyes again, and, judging by the fact that everyone is watching the door when Franky emerges, she didn’t leave quietly. Shit.

~

Needless to say, there’s no easy way to explain that. Franky can’t even explain it to herself. She spends the next few days either in her room or roaming the parts of Bristol where she’s unlikely to see anyone she knows, trying to figure out what her next step should be. She considers and rejects a lot of ideas. She sends Mini a text message after two days, apologizes for being a shitty friend and ends it with the ever useless ‘if you need anything...’

Mini, surprisingly, does answer the message. Unsurprisingly, her reply is ‘fuck you.’ Franky (a bit off her head) considers sending both ‘you did.’ and ‘when and where.’ She laughs her throat raw and sends nothing.

~

She considers, again, confronting him, but still can’t think of anything she could use to threaten him. The only thing she has on him is this, and she can’t use this information against him, anything she did with it would have the same negative effect on Mini. She can’t even be sure she should do something about it - it gets all muddled in her head, ‘Mini deserves better, but shouldn’t she be able to make her own choices, but is this really a choice at all,’ and she goes round and round in circles and drives herself crazy thinking about Mini actually touching that guy. (That might be completely separate from the point, though.)

~

Tuesday comes and Franky goes back to college. She can reasonably explain away three days at home, but not more than that. No one, thankfully, brings it up. She gets a few ‘where have you beens?’ but that’s the extent of it. Mini leaves the room as soon as Franky comes in, and Franky only manages to stay for another five minutes after she’s gone. She doesn’t even bother with an excuse, or leaving out a different door. She’s following Mini, they can think whatever they like about it. Mini’s speedy, though, apparently, she’s already out of sight around the corner, and it takes Franky a few minutes to find her in one of the classrooms, flipping shut her cell phone. She turns, and doesn’t look surprised, “Maybe you were right. Maybe being used for my body wasn’t as awesome as it sounds. Anyways, I still don’t need rescuing, I handled it all by myself, so you can fuck off again.”

“What about not fucking off, is that an option?”

Mini pauses, thinks about it, and replies, sternly (but she meets Franky’s eyes!), “I’m not sure yet.”

“I can work with that.” Franky grins.


End file.
